


A Good Try (to Say the Least)

by Whimzlogo



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Coping, Drawing, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Toothless Friendship, Hiccup admires Toothless' work, Missing Scene, Movie 3: How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World, Post-Canon, Right after Third Date, The sad stuff's only in ch 2, Toothless Appreciation, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Wholesome, ch 1 is fluff express
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19333417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whimzlogo/pseuds/Whimzlogo
Summary: Directly after "Third Date", Toothless is shaking dry on the rocks and lamenting a failed attempt at courtship. Hiccup... doesn't see failure. At least, not in the areas that Toothless, evidently, is giving little thought to.





	1. Safe

He fell into the water. He floundered in the air for three seconds, clumsily flapping his sleek, black wings and trying to stay afloat, but that tail... That asymmetrical wedge of a fin that, biologically, was fine, of course, but on its own couldn't support a Night Fury in flight without a mirror. Had Toothless worn his signature, rally red-and-white prosthetic down to the beach, it would have folded beneath him. A saddle made out of iron and rope and leather would have done little else but scare the Light Fury away.

Hiccup had had no trouble doing that all on his own, and now his best bud of six rewarding years was breaking the surface of the lake several feet below, eyes on the dawn sky, crooning a soft, sad sound that the one-legged human in the equation  _never_ wanted to hear, and would do everything in his power to quell with bottomless love and a morning spent _not_ going back to bed; not when he would rather work. For Toothless.

_He needs to fly. No putting it off anymore._

He contemplated if that actually  _was_ , indeed, what he'd been doing this past year. Toothless made it clear to him long before Drago and long before Grimmel that he didn't want a self-operating tail, but seeing him like this... Unable to pursue personal wants outside of what  _Hiccup_ wanted...

A sigh fell gracelessly from Hiccup's lips as he brushed noisily past the lavender bush he used for cover minutes before (not helping with that whole trying-to-stay-awake thing), sliding and stumbling down grainy sand mounds and starting every time his peg leg hit hidden stone underneath all of it. It got deeper closer to the shoreline, pardoning the stretch of rock Toothless leaped from.

Speaking of, the Fury was standing on the very same spot now, having waded back to dry land with an ill-humored pout scrawled over his scaly face. His tail dusted the surface of the lake still as he pawed irritably at his ears, pounding the excess water out of them.

Hiccup didn't feel comfortable staring and bided his time glancing down at the sand. He jolted with a gasp when he realized his booted foot was standing squarely on a line his best friend had drawn, rounding off the Light Fury's face. He swerved to remove himself from the literal picture post-haste and wound up tripping. He fell into the sand astride the neat portrait, and his grunt garnered a confused warble from the Strike Class dragon sitting on the rocks.

It was then that Hiccup really let the artistry of the branch strokes sink in, and couldn't help gawking at the magnificent work done.

The half circles and the full ones. The  _steadiness_. He was a left-handed man who couldn't ever imagine drawing a picture using only his mouth, but then, Toothless had more room in his for maneuverability. Toothless, also, only grasped a basic understanding of drawing pictures six years ago, down in the cove they first bonded in. It had been a series of crisscrosses and winding lines, more in motion/action mimic than a try at a recognizable image in the dirt. (When Hiccup had tilted his head and squinted at it from a distance the following day, he realized the stranger dragon had captured his likeness better than what he had first come to think on the initial viewing.)

Toothless would look back on that old rookie drawing and wince now. He had come far.

"Toothless," said Hiccup, after getting to his feet and cupping his chin, still staring endlessly at it. He heard a faint rustle of tall ear flaps against scales as the large reptile acknowledged the verbalization of his beloved name. Claws scored the damp rock as the Berkian Alpha moved stealthily over. His co-leader turned to him, if briefly, to puff out a smile. "Toothless, this is beautiful."

Big, squared pupils followed his line of sight, settling blankly on the giant, beaming portrait. Wrinkles ran over his snout and foreleg muscles bunched as Toothless rumbled out a growl, less in aggression and more in vexation. No.  _Frustration_.

"She loved it," Hiccup replied, not deviating his gaze or swapping the bright-eyed expression for one that matched his best friend's worn scowl. "You know, it took me a long time to figure out human faces. I still mess up. I know, with the right motivation— a special sorta care for making sure every detail is right because you want it to be perfect," his drawings of Astrid came to mind, "a human or dragon can do anything, but... this is that and more. You're great, bud.  _This_  is great."

He clasped his hands in front of him, grinning down at it. Admiring it earnestly. A cold, spiny head that was still sopping with lake water nudged into his side, emanating purrs. The sound coupled with the soothing vibrations was almost enough to send Hiccup back off into sleep right there on the beach. He used his dragon's shoulders and neck to lean drowsily on, idly scratching his nails on whatever plane of skin his hand fell across. It must have been a good spot, because he could feel a pleasured writhe rack his buddy's frame as he leaned into it.

"You're too modest. I wish I could save it somewhere... somehow." He gave it thought; could sense Toothless' tentative aversion to it that was grounded only in the fact that the Light Fury had left again, and he couldn't follow. It probably translated to, 'this tactic failed', but he knew Toothless wouldn't be one to care if the elements swept the image away— permanently erased it— whether it failed or not. Safekeeping instincts and the pride to not allow another soul to step carelessly on the lines were two different things, and Hiccup found that he was personally sensitive to one but not the other. Toothless was the same, but his preferences were vice versa.

Whatever the deciding verdict, there was nothing Hiccup could do about it right then, with no tools on him and no time on his hands. He stayed on location with his draconic brother a few minutes longer, tracing the happy Fury face with his eyes until he could see it clearly without having to look. Toothless sat off to the side after awhile, looking a little lost but seemingly adamant about walking back to the camp  _with him_.

Hiccup threw a one-armed hug around his neck as they reentered the forest outskirts together.

"You didn't need my help for any of that, bud." He thought in silence a moment. It didn't take long for a ribbing smile to form as he continued, "The two of you go together like me and  _Astrid_ ," knowing his dragon would register the name and connect the dots.

To his instant gratification, Toothless' ears twitched and his eyes sharpened. He groaned as if to say, 'Don't you  _dare_  compare what I just did to  _anything_  you would do in the company of Astrid!'— the unsuccessful dancing  _or_  the considerably more successful drawing.

"Aw, c'mon, there you go bein' modest again- hUP!" A yap was ripped from him when the exasperated Night Fury dove down behind him and forced his head in between his thighs. Hiccup was expertly scooped up off the ground by a strong snout and tossed backwards, inevitably winding up on his best bud's back and bracing his hands on the bases of his wings. "You're- you're not dodging this one, Toothl-"

Toothless snorted derisively at the weak taunt and broke into a swift run through the trees without warning, pulling a startled shout and an excited laugh from Hiccup as he scrambled to hold onto something to keep from being deseated, which, at that moment, could only be his flying partner's neck that was still slippery from the unintentional plunge into the lake. He hugged it tight and screamed stuttery words of caution and shrill complaints of having no grip through his grin, making Toothless chuckle in honest amusement as he pounded forward, ignoring his rider's halfhearted pleas for a respite.

The familiar flutter the bumpy ride blossomed in Hiccup's stomach harkened back to a time when adrenaline rushes were fun. When they weren't strictly brought about by getting Deathgripper acid spat at him, and were wholly welcomed, because Toothless was there and Toothless would never let him fall— from the clouds or from three feet off the ground.

They loudly tore back into camp with wide smiles on their faces, windswept and panting.

True to Hiccup's silent vow, there was no sleep.


	2. Keeping

Back on Berk, Hiccup knew every indentation in the dirt; every trench and mound. Where every grass patch ended, and how many steps one needed to take before they reached trees— for  _every_  direction away from the village he grew up in. The village he went fifteen years thinking he would never have any pleasant memories in, until dragons moved in and his life gained a purpose.

Monolithic Island being new and foreign to him was the only reason he forced himself to lift his head and look beyond two feet in front of him. Why he picked his chin up off his chest at all. He was taking a path he had only taken a single round trip on  _once_ , days (hours?) before. His heart was heavy and his face was hot. Every step drug. He wanted to sink to the ground and hold his whirling head. He wanted to sit in the middle of the forest until night fell, and then for longer. If he couldn't see anything, and torches from the soon-to-be permanent village were minutes away, maybe he could trick his mind into thinking that the black sky above the canopy were wings. That the chilly sea breeze fanning through the trunks and foliage was wind being fanned from overhead by powerful, beautiful, onyx  _wings_ , making his hair stir and blow around the way he loved.

Nighttime was hours away, and Hiccup carried a satchel full of equipment. He stuffed his blankest sketch book into the loose clothes he wore; another vest over a tunic, with a left pant leg jaggedly cut to avoid getting in the way of his prosthetic. He felt lighter without the sound of leather creaking every time he twitched a muscle, but he didn't feel any freer. Not in any of the ways that truly mattered to him.

As he neared the edge of the pine forest where the land dropped off into sand and rock, he felt a nagging apprehension. Hesitation to look out on the shoreline where the memory took place.

_It hasn't rained. It should still be there._

He wasn't sure what he would do if it was gone. Move on, was all that would be  _available_  for doing. But what would stop him from lingering down there long after he discovered that this short trip had been for nothing? That all remaining traces of his best friend were gone, save shed scales and saliva stains and a saddle he couldn't do anything with anymore?

All of those things were saved by him. Kept by him, or rendered impossible to wash out, the latter of which being because Toothless made a habit out of kissing those he cherished,  _often_ , and as hard or as soft as he liked, depending on what kind of kiss he felt was appropriate-

 _Gasp!_ A whimper stalled in the back of Hiccup's throat after the sharp sound. He was sitting amidst the purple stalks of lavender at the start of the stony decline, legs dangling and frame trembling. Tears burned the corners of his eyes and turned his vision blurry for the third time that day.

Out in the sand, Toothless' picture remained. Not tampered with. The unintentional scuff from Hiccup's clumsy fall onto the Light Fury's cheek was left intact. Hiccup stared down at it, unable to compose himself but trying anyway. Perhaps looking away would have made doing that easier, but he  _couldn't_.

His bud's work was here.  _Work_. Not an inevitability like mementos or tack; this was something Toothless conjured up in his brain and  _made_ , with his mouth and his wings. A pair of discerning green eyes and a joy for creation that Hiccup was sure he possessed since the instant he was hatched but never had any use for during his days raining down plasma blasts on Berk.

With a weak grunt and an everlasting ache in his chest, Hiccup descended, picking his way down the rocks and eventually kicking up sand as he reached level ground. He stopped before the nearest rounded-off ear nub, biting his lip. Swallowing.

His amazing boy. His wonderful, wonderful dragon, who made him happier; made him a whole person. His other half. His partner in flight.

There wouldn't be a Hiccup if there wasn't a Toothless. He would have two working legs, perhaps, but they would be attached to an unhappy person who had no way of knowing how to attain respect. The leg was a small price to pay for what should have been a lifetime full of friendship and humor and  _wholeness_.

He could probably get the first two again, but the third?

Only one soul in the entire  _world_  trilled like his. And now that soul was in  _the_ World. Hidden away.  **Safe**. Safe, safe, safe. Toothless was safe. That was all that mattered.

Hiccup's hands shook as he reached into his vest. His clammy fingers latched onto the spine of the empty-paged book he brought with him, safely tucked into a spacious inner pocket. He walked around the giant face to stand in front of it, trying to line himself up well with its center. He was fortunately able to turn off all the wet emotions for a time as he mulled over how exactly he was going to do this. He had many pages worth of attempts to fill up if the first time wasn't the charm.

Bird's eye views were no longer possible; he couldn't observe from above and get the best vantage point now. Proportions would be off. He also couldn't move back too far, because then he wouldn't be able to see it at all.

His eyes caught on the broken tree several feet away. The one the Light Fury hung upside-down from until her curiosity was piqued. Hiccup started that way, almost in a daze. He scrambled up the flattened bushes where his dragon stepped, boot and peg slipping every few inches as he moved up onto the almost-level frond. He crawled across it, looking straight down. He reached the splintered end where Toothless snapped the wood and sat next to it, dangling his legs over the side.

It was calm up here. It was calm up  _anywhere_ , but Hiccup could get used to this spot. The lake shimmered with the wind and mirrored the bright, puffy clouds overhead. It was as if he was high above them again; not grounded. He could stare and get lost in his lofty thoughts of flying, and of not being downed.

 _Downed_.

He wondered, briefly, if how he felt could be compared to the way Toothless felt six years prior, when he was shot out of the sky and rendered unable to achieve flight again without the help of another. Hiccup waved it away and decided it wasn't comparable, since Toothless needed flight for  _more_  than just pure enjoyment. Hiccup took the ability away from him, and he could only hope that his most recent decision made up for the loss.

With his sights reset on the drawing, a new kind of reluctance nestled its way into his chest. A doubt.

This was Toothless' work of art. Not his. It had no place in his sketch book.

He would never take credit for it, but it would be lost eventually if he didn't save it through his own copy. Lost forever, like so many other things he lost with no hope of ever getting back. He would never squander an opportunity to keep something safe.

He commenced. Tilting on the branch, glancing up and down as the charcoal he pulled from the satchel he strung up on the tree by the strap was put to blank page, scritching along. Rounding off an oval with enough room for the half circles at the top forming ear frills.

It was a simple adaptation of a Fury dragon's face. No fancy details. Hiccup could illustrate a similar picture of his own without reference, but it wouldn't look exactly like Toothless'. He wanted to draw an identical copy, albeit scaled down. The curved line forming a mouth ran so close alongside the bottom of the oval that it almost touched it.  _Hiccup's_  almost touched it; Toothless got it right on the first try.

As he drew, doodled, traced through visual memory and took no personalized liberties that would add a touch of his own flair, he felt a surge of warmth in him. The first he had felt that afternoon, that  _day_.

Drawing was nice. It took him back. Far enough, but not long enough. Circumstance kicked back in and he was hollow again in seconds. The charcoal stopped moving.

He found himself getting back down off the tree and returning to the beach, looking straight on at the disproportionate shapes splayed out in front of his feet. He hummed and paced and finished the copy— among three— he put the most effort and concentration into. Holding it out at arm's length and returning to the tree branches for final assessments. Viewing and comparing from every angle. He found some rocks on the other side of the beach and got up on top of them. A particularly strong wind blew through and he didn't realize it brought a smile to his face until after it passed him, swirling over the crystal surface of the water.

He returned to his former hiding spot by the lavender with his now-pocketed book and satchel in tow. He sat down in the dirt with his knees drawn up to his chest to study the original drawing for another hour, truly taking it in for all that it was, before getting up and packing it in.

The day continued as normal after he hid away his book and tools in his tent and met back up with his people. Directing construction. Talking, largely. There was a lot of talking. The faces that normally gave him a hard time didn't. Those who were normally loud were quiet, and those who were normally quiet were  _loud_  to fill in the somber lulls. Nothing was right. Nothing felt balanced.

When it came time to hit the hay, Hiccup didn't want to. For how exhausted he was, for how much energy was expended flying for the last time, and crying, and avoiding...

He was sitting on the grassy floor of his makeshift room, a lit candle nearby and his sketch book in his lap. He gazed down at his drawing and was able to breathe easier, knowing he could always look at it. Be reminded of his heart. His best friend was more than just that; he was the living embodiment of Hiccup's moral code, perfected over the years— or so he thought.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to flip the pages to some earlier sketches, but he did.

More sketches of Toothless. Freeform. From loving memory, even though it was highly likely he drew them while the very Night Fury was in the room with him.

What a difference they held. He harbored more love for them, even though the Light Fury's perpetually smiling face made him feel more secure. Toothless would have approved of these ones. They were caringly shaded. Drawn with no desperation to help himself cope. They were wrapped up in the moment; saturated in merriment to exist at the same time that  _dragons_  walked the globe. They were unabashedly  _his._

As eager as he had been to save the beach portrait, he now felt an instantaneous aversion to it. He closed the book and went to sleep, falling into a blissfully deep, detailed dream about indigo scutes and wing membranes. The sound of a Great Waterfall drowned out all sound, but the reassuring texture of a thick hide pulsing with warmth and blue nostrils huffing smoke into his hair kept him there, happily so.

When he woke up, it wasn't with a start, and he was smiling again, if faintly. He felt no inclination to take a second look and hid the sketches away again.

The next time it rained was the next time he pulled them out. No sooner.

As water drops pelted the outside of the tent, he sat in silence, touching the palm of his hand to the Light Fury's face. No tears escaped his eyes. He was feeling well off today. His bud's work was in his hands, as safe as anything. As safe as his bud was.

 _Please take care of him,_ he mentally implored, pulling his hand back.

The picture was as muted as he was, promising nothing. He had faith in the series of lines and ovals and circles, though. He had faith in the World— perhaps not to protect humans like he first thought, but certainly to protect dragons.

He would kick himself every day for the rest of his life for not being able to do that himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm imagining up a third part to this that's similar to this part, but Toothless-centric, taking place in the Hidden World post-canon. But I like how this wraps up being fully from Hiccup's point of view, so I might make a separate work for that. I don't write about Hiccup much, so this was a nice workout. ^^


End file.
